


Oh The Places We'd Go

by NorroenDyrd



Series: Lighting Up His World [2]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Daydreaming, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hopeful Ending, Optimism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 09:36:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13478679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorroenDyrd/pseuds/NorroenDyrd
Summary: Yvie, Asra's gregarious and hopeful apprentice, shows Julian something that she hopes will inspire him to look on the bright side when he considers his future.





	Oh The Places We'd Go

Their fingers stay woven tightly together all the way to the magic shop, Yvie’s soft sun-bronzed flesh warm even through the creaky black leather.

They hold on to each other, the simple joy of touch bringing a smile to both their faces: Yvie’s is broad and bright, its radiance reflected in her widened, sea-like eyes; while Julian’s is less constant, flickering, as if he has to pause every now and again and to wonder quietly to himself at what is going on with him.

They hold on to each other, no matter what goes on in the dusky city all around them. No matter where the twists and turns of the narrow streets take them; no matter how close they come to stumbling over cracks and lumps of the uneven cobbled pavement; no matter how many times they have to swerve and duck to dodge a rattling half-empty cart returning from the market, or to avoid getting smacked on the back of the head by a swinging store sign (that usually happens in the case of Julian; Yvie would barely reach the sign’s hinges even if she sat on his shoulders), or to clear the path for some meandering drunkard (who, more often than not, seems to recognize the flapping black and red cloak, and slurs a not quite coherent but very enthusiastic ‘Heeey Joooooles’, to which Julian responds with a saluting flick of his free hand next to his elbow).

They hold on to each other, up until the point when they arrive at the shop’s threshold - which is when Yvie gives Julian’s long bony fingers one last tight squeeze and lets go.

‘I need two hands to lift the wards,’ she explains genially, turning towards the door and pressing her hands against the wood, glowing white swirls beginning to spread from her fingertips like brushstrokes of frost on the windowpane.

‘I will demand both of them back after you are done,’ Julian teases, edging away from the door just in case. 'They are in dire need of kissing’.

Yvie giggles happily into the folds of the flowery scarf that she always wears (her master’s fashion habits are rubbing off) - and the moment the sound’s last silvery echo fades, the swirls flare up to their brightest point and then retract. The way into the shop is open.

'Oh, I would very much like if you followed me before any of that kissing,’ she requests softly, pushing the door open.

'There is something that I want to show you’.

'Oh?’ Julian arches the eyebrow over his good eye, and then lowers it into a frown, his posture growing tense.

Yvie sighs.

'It doesn’t involve Asra, I promise. He is away again, and he won’t be back for a while. Though I do hope to one day bring you two into the same room and have you talk over what you left unsaid’.

Julian barks out one of his abrupt, mirthless laughs - and hurries to steer towards another subject.

'Knowing you, I can be certain that anything you have to show me is far safer than what comes from the master witch. So… I am game’.

'Good’, she beams, little short of pushing the doctor’s lanky form through the doorway.

Inside, the shop is drowning in a stream of purplish, smoky murk, which turns the tall potion cupboards and bookcases into dark blurry cliffs that rise ominously out of the sea like the distant Lazaret Island. But the bleak impression is gone faster than it takes to draw an unsettled breath of air: the moment Yvie steps in, her gait light as a dance, she clicks her fingers against her thumb, making a spark of golden light burst out from under her touching nail tips. In a matter of seconds, the spark swells into a small ball, which Yvie cradles gently, its honeyed glow filling up her pupils, before blowing at it like she would at a soap bubble, and setting it into a dance from one corner of the cozy little building to another, touching down at any lamp and candle stub that it meets and leaving merry tongues of flame in its wake.

Presently, the room is transformed, cozy and welcoming, with not a nook left in the shadows.

'If you want tea, that will need to wait a bit,’ Yvie warns, rubbing her hands together. 'The salamander in the stove has been a bit moody lately. I think the poor dear has an unrequited crush on Faust’.

Julian chortles to himself and murmurs absent,

'No, no… I am good’.

If he is refusing because he is put off by the thought of a salamander stirring up a flame for cooking, he does not really show it. For all his wariness of magic, watching Yvie spellcasting, while he rests his back against a wall and folds his arms on his chest, appears to both engross him and put him in a content mood, his only eye blinking slowly like that of a cat cozying up in the lap of its favourite human. His gaze grows distant, dreamy, and this time, his smile lingers.

He does have to shake off his reverie, however, when Yvie gives her head a little toss - so that her hair, a fantastical, Prakran-like green colour, is whipped into a bushy blur - and announces loudly,

'All right then! Here comes the something!’

Another flourishing gesture of the little brown hand; another spell. A windy gust of telekinesis that sweeps up a large, thickly bound tome off a top shelf and carries it towards the store’s counter.

The book opens when it makes its thudding landing; and as Julian moves closer to Yvie, the smile still there while he bends down and rests his chin on her shoulder, slightly flushed cheek rubbing against her temple, he sees that the page spread before him is taken up by a meticulously detailed map, a bold trail of ink shaping the rocky coastine, while finer little curls and hatches to its left blend into almost three-dimensional pictures of sprawling cities, linked by a net of roads like vessels carrying the continent’s life blood.

'So… An atlas?’ he muses, his intonation uncertain.

'Yes,’ Yvie nods, allowing a brief pause to settle in.

When she speaks again, her voice is loud and clear, every word so laden with meaning that it seems to make an indentation in the very air.

'Julian… Ilya… I want you to flip through this atlas very, very carefully, and look at all these wonderful places, and imagine yourself visiting them, each and every one, together with Pasha, once this is all over, once you are a free man. Reliving your incredible past adventures with her by your side. Catching up on all the family bonding you missed. Making sure that she does not cry ever again. The way you always wanted’.

Julian falls back half a pace and fiddles with his collar, a bit out of breath, as if the salamander has decided to forget his forlorn lovesick brooding and heated up the room like a steam bath house.

'Yvie, I… I can’t do that. What if it turns out… What if I have to…’

'There will be no what-ifs,’ Yvie tells him firmly, swerving away from the counter to draw him back, their fingers entwined again.

'We will prove your innocence. Nadia will pardon you. Asra will get his head out of… the clouds, and ease your curse, or lift it altogether. And then, you and Pasha will go on a well-deserved vacation for a lot of sightseeing and sibling bonding. And shenanigans. Fun shenanigans. Which will not end in tragedy’.

'If only you could just magic something like this into being…’ Julian tries to jest, his voice hollow.

'I will be working hard to do just that,’ Yvie assures him earnestly, while seeking to catch Julian’s gaze with her eyes.

When it happens, something seems to snap within him; suddenly limp and weakened, he closes his eye, bends his arms slightly in the elbow to incite an embrace - and, when Yvie gets the hint and wraps her arms around him, whispers into her hair,

'Oh, my dearest, if I ever dared to lose myself in indulgences, I would imagine you on that vacation as well… There are so many places in this world that would take your breath away…’

'Then do it,’ she whispers back, her lowered voice intimately hot in his ear. 'Imagine us… You, Pasha, and me… Travelling, laughing, breathing freely… Not having to run and to hide… Being happy…’

'If you go on like this, the mere sight of a map of any kind will start getting me turned on,’ Julian blurts out, managing to tilt his head and sneak in a kiss on the corner of Yvie’s mouth.

'Shush, I was being serious!’ Yvie scolds him mockingly, reaching up and digging her fingers into his hair to ruffle it.

She means to continue, but cuts herself off, her jaw hanging a little in alarm.

'Oh no! Did I pull too hard? Did I hurt you?’

'I don’t…’ Julian mouthes vaguely in reply, confused.

'There’s tears in your eye!’

'Oh… Oh those…’

Julian looks away, steadily turning a deeper and deeper crimson.

'Don’t mind them. I always told you you make me melt. You stubborn little optimist’.


End file.
